Invitation
by TWBB
Summary: Edward is a solitary, murderous vampire. Bella is a fragile human. Worlds collide.


A/N: Inspired by Dracula, mostly. Sort of.

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.

Crimson blood, spattered on white. It was that image that brought me here, hundreds of miles north and west, into the furthest reaches of a country that had, over the course of my one-hundred-and-nine years, become something I hardly recognized. But the snow still fell here, its white, lavish landscape as pristine as a virgin bride. I craved the starkness of it, the crisp air and the bitter wind. Somehow, after all these years, I still noticed these things. Still sensed a turn in the weather, still appreciated something other than the scent of my prey. Few of us did, I knew. And I wondered, with only a trace of bitterness, if this was my final hold on my humanity.

I walked further into the woods, a sea of pines that made it impossible for all but the most cunning of predators to overcome. My prey, of course, rarely ventured beyond their well-lit roads and shopping malls. Most humans had more sense than that. Those that did not, in my mind, deserved their fate.

And so it surprised me, on this bitter morning in December, to catch the scent of human blood. It was only a whisper at first, a trace of something, or maybe nothing—so very faint that even I was compelled to question it. But when the wind changed, the scent flooded me with such raw, brute force that I nearly fell to my knees. At once my body responded to this sign of imminent prey, my head turned, my muscles braced for flight. Although I could see nothing, could hear nothing, could feel nothing but the promise of a violent, bloodthirsty feast, I did what came naturally to me.

I ran.

Instinct took over as I followed the scent of blood through the forest. This human's blood was different in some way—very lush, almost sweet, as if innocence itself could be captured in one tantalizing scent. As I drew closer, my idle ruminations fell away, replaced by the sheer drive to kill. I lost myself in these moments, in the final seconds of a human life that was mine for the taking. With each step, I could feel my senses sharpening, my prey's fate decided.

Time dissolved into nothing as I sprinted through the trees, losing myself in the inevitable. I would drain this human here in these dark, lonely woods, as ideal a place as I could imagine. Then I would abandon the corpse, where other creatures might scavenge its bloodless remains. I never stayed long enough to witness the aftermath. The laws of my kind—as limited as they were—prohibited it.

"Bella!"

I fell into a crouch, my muscles suddenly rigid, my ears pricked at the sound of a human voice I hadn't expected. Never before had I managed to block out the scent of another human in the vicinity; never before had I allowed myself to become so distracted by the blood of my prey. It startled me, this weakness, this fallibility. I froze in place, just a few hundred feet from the rustling of human footsteps, just seconds away from the divine satisfaction of satiating my own thirst.

Of course I could easily kill one, five, thirty humans if the circumstances required it. But I wanted to see the vessel of the blood I so desperately craved; I wanted to see this creature who even now, eluded me. I crept through the trees, my footsteps gliding over ice and snow, as a pack of six humans came into view.

And still she escaped me.

I could hear them now, their thoughts and emotions, the very predictable nature of their humanity. But there was one missing, the one whose blood had called to me, the one named Bella.

My bloodlust had a name.

They were all so close now, so close I could kill them all with an outstretched hand. It was my never my preference to use brute force to take a human life. No, I could only drink if their breaths were hot against my neck, if their veins pulsed beneath my lips. I relished the desperate beat of their hearts, the panicked thunder of resistance as much as the quiet flutter of hypovolemic shock. It all happened in the same order, the same relentless rhythm of life, and struggle, and death.

But these humans I could kill. Would happily do so, to give myself time to savor the blood of such an exquisite specimen. A human's physical appearance meant nothing to me; I had never, in all my years as a vampire, craved anything other than human blood. But if her blood could have this effect on me, if her thoughts were truly elusive to my gifted mind…

I saw her then, the object of my pursuit, the creature that had frustrated even the most reliable of my senses. I watched her as she stumbled through the snow, her long brown hair dancing across her face, her cheeks as red as the scarf around her neck.

She was unlike any human I had ever seen before.

Beautiful. Innocent. Young.

She reminded me of all I had lost, so many years before.

She froze at the sound of my approach, her eyes white with shock and fear and the very human instinct to run. I recognized it because they all reacted with their eyes first, their bodies second. By then, of course, it was too late. I would see the fear in their eyes, might even acknowledge its presence, but that was all. Escape was impossible.

And so I knew, in that moment, what must come next. Pull her into me, swiftly yet gingerly, my arm wrapped around her shoulders as I muffled her screams with my free hand and buried my teeth in her neck. I must do so. My throat burned with the fire of a thousand hells I would one day inhabit.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, as I reached for her, slowly, torturously, because my instinct to kill was warring with some other maddening desire to hold back. She struggled, but of course she was powerless to resist me, and I could feel her heart racing and her blood pulsing and her breaths coming in short, shallow gasps. I held her to me, her back against my chest, her neck arched to the side, exposing white, translucent skin.

In the mind of a vampire, seconds can feel like lifetimes. And so it was that in one second, in one sliver of her human existence, I could discern the snow on her shoulders and the scent of strawberries in her hair and the warmth of her skin. Her body tensed in my arms, then relaxed, her heart findings its rhythm again as her breathing slowed. She felt like fire against my chest, her body as full of life as anything I had ever known, and it was no longer simply her blood I wanted, but _her_.

I stepped back, watching her collapse into the snow as I raced through the trees, as far away from this mystifying human as this earth would allow me. I was a predator, yes; a monster reliant on human blood to survive. But this was more. Different. Alien.

And yet I knew, as I slipped effortlessly through the pines, where I would inevitably return.

She lived in a humble, rain-battered house on a quiet road in Forks, Washington. I stood across the street, in the shelter of the trees and rain, until she came home. Another human returned first—her father, perhaps, judging by the worrisome nature of his thoughts. She was late, it seemed. Late, but alive. This itself was a gift.

It was her scent I detected first. Then, minutes later, she stumbled out of her truck onto the snow-covered driveway. I tensed at the sight of her: the long, lush brown hair wet with melted snow, the redness of her cheeks, the fragility of her small, slender frame. I was hundreds of feet away, hidden in darkness and snow, but I could discern every detail of this fascinating human. And her mind, as before, remained silent.

A light came on in the house as she opened the door, and I could hear relief flooding her father's thoughts. And then, as if my mind had commanded it, he walked out the door and drove away in a car with flashing lights and sirens.

She was alone.

A fire raged within me as I considered the prospect of her asleep, alone, unaware. Never before had I held any interest in the mundane behaviors of humans; their patterns were so alien to my own. But I could think of nothing but her dreams, which came so easily to them. Dreams were a rare gift of perception that we so tragically lacked.

I was standing, now, on her doorstep. She was alone, but not unprotected. These walls, as aged and thin and cracked as they were, were her sanctuary. I could not enter unbidden. And yes, she would eventually leave this place, but by then it would be daylight and I would be too weak to drink from her.

I had never, in my existence, craved a human's blood so badly as to require entry to her home. This was an unfortunate technicality, an inconvenience I had always managed to avoid since I stalked my prey in desolate woods, dark alleys, or empty roads. Yet here I stood, wishing these walls did not exist, knocking with three hard raps on her door so that she might invite me in.

I heard the creak of a chair first, then her footsteps on the floor, then the slow turn of the knob. She would not recognize me, I knew; she hadn't seen my face, nor did humans ever remember an encounter with a vampire. We killed too swiftly for that.

She opened the door with trepidation, her brow knotting in thought as she took in the sight of a haggard vampire standing on her doorstep. To her, of course, I looked like an unfortunate teenager, with my shoulders hunched, my hair matted against my forehead, my clothes soaked through. It took every ounce of resolve I possessed to look the part, to deceive her into thinking I was harmless rather than murderous.

"Can I help you?" she asked, her voice light, breathy. I took a breath, cleared my throat. Other than the two words I'd whispered to her several hours ago, I hadn't used my voice in many years.

"I've been running," I said. "I can't go any farther."

She shifted her weight to one side, a trace of tension leaving her body. She felt fear, I knew. I could sense it, could almost reach out and touch it, but this was unacceptable because she would never invite me in if she felt afraid.

"Running from what?" she asked.

"From a dangerous situation," I said, her brown eyes blazing as I met her gaze. "I can't go back."

"Where did you come from?"

My mind was quick, of course, but without the ability to hear her thoughts before she spoke them, I felt unbalanced. I hadn't developed an elaborate story to tell; I simply hadn't thought that far in advance.

"A long ways from here," I said.

"And you walked all this way?"

I looked away from her, my composure weakening, my patience withering into nothing. It was everywhere now, the scent of her blood, the steady pulse of her heart, the dizzying allure of her vulnerability. It felt as though my entire existence had distilled itself into this moment, this insatiable thirst for blood, _her_ blood, and without it I would simply cease to be.

"Yes," I said, my voice a desperate rattle in my throat. Her neck was exposed, and the bluish tinge of her veins pulsed against the whiteness of her skin. I licked my teeth; my fingers curled behind my back. _Invite me in._

"Well," she said, hesitating. "Do you want me to call someone for you?"

"No," I said, barely managing the word through the red haze of my thoughts. "I think I just need to rest."

She stood there, thinking, waiting, considering. Her grip tightened on the door knob, and her gaze drifted back towards the kitchen. In the end, her innocence betrayed her.

"Do you want to come in?"

I could have killed her then—longed to, with every fiber of my being. But again I hesitated, again I waited that split-second of time while my instincts battled with an almost human impulse to spare her life.

"Thank you," I said, avoiding her gaze as she opened the door wide and let me in. In the span of time it took me to say those words, I could have satisfied my thirst a thousand times over. I felt as though I were standing before an elaborate banquet of the gods, and choosing a fast instead.

"Do you want something to drink?" she asked, as she walked towards the kitchen. Something like a smirk rose to my lips. And then it was gone, before she could turn around to process the irony.

"I'm fine," I said. I watched her as she walked, her bare feet light on the hardwood floors, her hips swaying with each stride. There was a slight hesitation with each step, as though she were accustomed to losing her balance. It was strange to see such imperfection, to watch it and in some ways, to appreciate it. I never paid attention to human flaws; to a vampire, they were so numerous, so obvious, that I never had reason to ponder the subtleties of human mechanics.

"Are you sure?" she asked, turning around. I was close enough to touch her now, my fingers curling once again at my sides, my breathing all but non-existent. There was always silence before a kill. Always a second or two to relish it.

"Yes," I said, averting my gaze once more. I could feel her studying me, perhaps questioning the red tint of my eyes or the pallor of my skin. I ran my hand through my hair, away from my eyes. Its moisture rained down on her, and she shivered from the cold, or from something else.

"My father's upstairs," she lied, her eyes darting towards the empty driveway. "So just, you know, keep your voice down."

I nodded, knowing as well as she did that I had yet to raise my voice above the volume of a whisper. And yet it was an excuse to lie to me, to make me doubt her defenseless, even here, in her own home.

She stood by the refrigerator, her back to the door. I gave her the distance she craved, not because I wanted to, but because I had the power to grant her a false sense of security.

"What's your name?" she asked.

I looked up, feeling the weight of her words settle heavily upon me. My name? Did I, after so many years of living as a monster, even have the right to a human name?

"Edward," I said, and a fleeting image of my mother's face rose to my mind, then faded away again. It was my given name, a strong name she had said, and it had been over a hundred years since I'd been called upon to use it.

"Nice to meet you, Edward," she said, the syllables rolling off her tongue like music. It stirred something deep within me, not animalistic or primal or even vampiric; it was something richer than that, something at the far, almost untouchable reaches of my being.

"And you?" I asked, dislodging the words from my throat. I knew the answer of course; knew it because her name, like her blood, had called me here.

"Bella," she said, glancing down at her hands. Her voice was soft, almost shy, and the trace of a blush rose to her cheeks when she spoke. "Do you have a place to go home to, Edward?"

"Home?" I said, considering the meaning of the word. There were vampires who settled in one place for years at a time, although I would hardly call their sleeping grounds a home.

"Your family?" she asked. "Don't you live with them?"

I looked toward the window, searching for something even my eyes couldn't see. "No," I said. "Not anymore."

"Well, you must have come from somewhere," she said.

"Yes," I said, speaking the truth. "But that part of my life is behind me now."

"But you're so young…" she trailed off, her blush deepening. Again my body stirred with longing, again my throat burned with an unquenchable thirst.

"As are you," I said.

"I'm seventeen."

I glanced down at my shoes, a forgotten remnant of someone else's life. "Me, too," I whispered.

"Sit down," she said, after a time. She gestured toward the table, scuffed and scratched, and I wondered how many times she had sat here. I thought about how many years I had killed and lived and wandered, waiting for her, because right now that vast expanse of my existence felt like nothing at all.

"Thank you," I said, following her lead.

"My father won't be thrilled you're here," she said. "He doesn't like strange…people in his house."

"I understand," I said, but of course it didn't matter. If I killed her, I would have to kill him, too. A murder-suicide, perhaps, to placate the local police. Messy, but doable. I'd had years of practice.

I looked down at my hands, suddenly ashamed. Shame. _Shame_. Was it even possible for a vampire to feel such an emotion?

"But I can't just let you go back out there," she said. "You'll freeze to death."

I said nothing, waiting for her to continue her line of thought. She took a deep breath and it sounded, to my ears, almost like a rebellion against every grain of reason she possessed.

"You can stay here," she said, her gaze finding mine. "If you need a place to stay."

Her eyes were so innocent, so full of depth and youth and misplaced compassion. The burn in my throat was still there, but the drive to kill had all but faded away. Something had changed. Something fundamental. Something central to my being, to who I was and what I had become.

"That's very kind of you, but your father…"

"I'll hide you in my room," she said, offering a timid smile. "He doesn't come in there."

"Are you sure—"

"It's okay, Edward," she said, placing her hand on my arm. She tensed ever so slightly, her fingers responding to the coolness of my skin. "You're so cold," she whispered.

I looked up at her, expecting to see fear or disgust or disbelief. But her face was calm, her eyes dark and curious.

"The snow," I managed to say.

She took a breath. "Of course," she said, but there was a question in her voice. Hesitation.

"It's this way," she said, standing up.

I followed her through the kitchen, the dining room, into the hallway and up the stairs to her little bedroom in the northeast corner of the house. She pulled her comforter off the bed, folded it over, and placed it on the floor.

"I'm sorry," she said. "It's the best I can do. I'd offer you my bed, but…"

She trailed off, the blush on her cheeks finding its way to her collarbones. I held my breath and looked away, thinking of other things beside the blood, always the blood, and nodded my head.

"It's fine," I said, and she smiled at me, nervous but real and honest and beautiful. I smiled, too, for the first time in a hundred years, and I wished I could stay forever in this room for no other reason than to see such happiness on a human face. I only ever saw fear. As a vampire, I had never been privy to anything else.

I knelt down to the floor, inhaling her sweet scent in every particle of the air. I heard the bed creak as she climbed in, her heart pounding in the stillness of the room. My senses continued to torture me; there was nothing I could do to escape her scent, her heartbeat, her proximity. After a while I could sense a rhythm to her breathing, a stillness to her movements. Our sleep was very different from that of humans—deeper, dreamless, undisturbed. But hers was as fragile as her body, interrupted by shallow breaths and broken words, and it captivated me.

I rose from the floor and walked to the side of her bed, my gaze fixed on her sleeping form, her smooth skin, her bare neck. I placed one hand on her arm, the other on her shoulder, my touch lighter than the gentlest wind. The burn in my throat had transformed into a raging, relentless fire, which I could no longer deny. It was everywhere now, deep and searing, a thousand times more intense than any desire the mind could conceive. I swept her hair from her shoulder, and leaned forward.

"I'm sorry," I whispered again, because this was my nature, my weakness, my only means to exist. I inhaled deeply, indulging in the lush scent of her blood, as I trained my eyes on the rhythmic pulse of her carotid.

She whimpered as I pierced the skin, my teeth sinking deeper into her flesh until my throat filled with the violent gush of blood. I swallowed it, again and again and again, losing myself in the frenzy of a kill. But I tried, with each beat of her heart, to restrain myself, to hold back, to savor the taste of such perfection. It had never been like this for me before. If I lived a thousand years, it never would.

I realized, slowly, what was happening. The frenzy receded into a slow burn, a stir of desire deep in my chest that radiated to other parts of my body that I had, over the course of time, forgotten. Vampires were sexual beings; I knew this, although it was not a part of my existence. I never felt lust for a human, and I had never understood how a vampire could covet anything other than human blood. But it was there now, and as I drank from her I realized how easily I could take her, how fully she could satisfy me.

But no. _No. _It wasn't a conscience I possessed—those did not exist for a species that relied on murder to survive—but a desire for her knowledge, her consent. It was a ludicrous thought, of course; I knew nothing about the art of seduction, nor did I know if it was even possible. Vampires drained humans of their blood; death always followed. Anything less than that required an extreme modicum of control few of our kind possessed.

"Edward," she whimpered in the midst of her dreams, her voice breaking through the chaos of my thoughts. Her pulse was quick, too quick, the body's first response to a drastic loss of blood. Soon it would slow, and then stop, and she would be lost to me forever.

I pulled back, licking my teeth as I swallowed the last glorious drops of blood. I had left two marks on her neck, so small as to be unnoticeable. When she awoke, she would feel drowsy and weak, and she would not know why.

I stood up, feeling guilt and shame and relief flood through me. I had taken so much blood, too much, and if she hadn't spoken my name, I might never have stopped. I fell to my knees, heaving with the consequences of my actions, overcome by emotions I could neither control nor understand.

I counted her breaths as she slept, listened to her heart, watched as her chest rose and fell.

For the first time in over a hundred years, I watched the sun rise.

"Edward?" she asked, as she opened her eyes. I was standing by the window, my body trembling with weakness and pain. The sun had this effect on vampires, especially younger ones; direct sunlight was a certain means to a slow, but clean death.

"I'm still here," I breathed, moving too quickly to the side of her bed. Fortunately she was still groggy with sleep and blood loss, and she didn't seem to notice the superhuman speed.

"Are you…God, I feel awful," she mumbled.

"Here," I said, handing her two glasses of juice. "Drink these."

"No, I'm okay," she said. "I just feel a little tired is all."

"It's still good for you to drink," I said, and with a disgruntled huff, she gave in.

"Edward, are you okay?" she asked. "You look…tired."

"I'm fine," I said. "But I have to go."

"Where?"

"Can I come back tonight?" I asked, avoiding her question. She crinkled an eyebrow and sipped the water.

"Okay," she said, a little smile in her voice. "But you'll have to use the window this time."

"I think I can manage that," I said, and what felt almost like a smirk rose to my lips. "Bella?"

"Yes?"

I looked down at the floor, guilt strangling the words in my throat. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she said, and they were the words of an unsuspecting human, whose blood was mine for the taking.

I wondered what would become of us if she knew she had opened her home to a monster.

I returned sixteen hours later, just before midnight. This time I tapped on her window, my senses attuned to her movements in the room. The fire was burning again, devouring my rational mind.

"Edward?" she asked, pushing open the window. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, a shy smile softening her face when she saw me.

"Hi," I said, when her gaze met mine.

"Come on," she said, reaching out to me. But it wasn't enough; these weren't the words I needed to hear.

"Are you okay?" she asked. "Are you stuck in that tree?"

"I'm fine…I'm not stuck," I managed to say.

"Then what are you waiting for?" she said, yanking on my coat. "Come in here!"

And so I did, surprising her with the agility of my movements and the silent tread of my feet on the floor. I was still a predator, and her presence merely heightened my instincts.

She walked toward her bed, creating a distance of a few tantalizing feet. She stood there for a few moments, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, her thoughts no doubt racing. I couldn't hear them, of course. I could hear nothing but the steady thrum of her heart.

"I don't often do this, you know," she said, as she sat down on the bed. "Take strangers in, I mean."

"Then why me?" I asked, before I could stop myself. I wanted to know, needed to know; every one of her thoughts and motivations eluded me.

"Because you looked lost," she said, her warm brown eyes finding mine. "And not just literally."

"I see," I said, and a palpable silence settled between us.

"Are you lost, Edward?"

I said nothing, my existence flashing before my eyes, my entire purpose called into question. Had I, for all these years, simply been lost? Had those years of drinking the blood of nameless, faceless humans brought me here?

"I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head. "It's a silly question. Anyway, was the floor okay last night?"

"Yes," I managed, and she offered a little smile before turning out the light. I lay on the floor, calmed by the quiet rhythm of her breathing. I became so accustomed to the silence that the sound of my own name startled me, her voice shattering the stillness of the room.

"Edward?"

I waited, resisting the very strong urge to get up and go to her. "Are you awake?" she asked.

"I'm awake," I said, and by then I had given up on my tenuous promise to remain on the floor, at least until she fell asleep. I sat in the chair by the bed, the hardwood floors groaning beneath my feet.

"Come here," she said, and she threaded her fingers through mine, and pulled me closer. "Stay with me?"

"I am—"

"Here," she said, and she scooted sideways, inviting me in.

"It's okay, Edward," she said, and it was the sound of my name on her lips that broke my resolve. I stepped out of my shoes and climbed inside the covers, which were as warm as her body, as soft as her skin. I wondered in that moment if I could will the sun not to rise, so that we might stay here forever.

"Can I ask you a question?" she said, her soft gaze finding mine, calming me. It was overwhelming to be so close to her, to breathe her scent in such thick, glorious waves. I focused on her voice and her lovely brown eyes, and in doing so, I found some semblance of peace.

"Of course," I said, wondering what about me could possibly interest her. I had come from no one, from nothing, and I hadn't even felt the warmth of the sun in over a century.

"What makes you happy, Edward?"

I inhaled slowly, surprised by her question. Happiness did not exist for vampires. There were no highs, no lows, only a constant state of being. But for humans, there was so much more—there was love, and heartbreak, and birthdays and weddings and funerals and first days of school. I thought of those things, and if only for a second, they almost seemed real.

"I like the piano," I said.

"Do you play?"

I sighed, remembering. "I used to."

"I bet you were very good," she said, a wistful smile crossing her face. "If I had a piano, I'd ask you to play for me."

"I would," I said. "I'd play for you all night."

"Maybe tomorrow then," she murmured, her hand finding mine. "I'm so tired…"

I brushed her hair from her face, tucking a few loose strands behind her ear. Why couldn't we have met in my human lifetime? Why did it have to be this way?

I knew, now, how much her fragile body could tolerate. I whispered my apologies before piercing her skin, savoring her blood drop by precious drop, stopping only when she murmured my name. Her heart fluttered in her chest, and I vowed to take even less the following night.

But then, restraint was not something a vampire understood.

On the thirty-third night, I found myself standing outside a stark white building rather than the quiet comfort of Bella's room. I stood in the shadows while people passed, their hearts heavy with dread, their eyes dark with despair and uncertainty. I hated these places, hated them more than any other human establishment; the blood was tainted and defiled, the people here ravaged by disease. Still I stood there, immobile, tortured by the possibilities of Bella's state.

I had never entered a hospital, nor had I ever encountered so many living humans at one time. This was a situation vampires avoided—so much blood, so much temptation. I ignored all reason when I walked through its doors.

"Can I help you?" came a high, shrill voice that brought me to a stop. I turned slowly, eyeing the cheerful human who had imposed herself in my path. I could have killed her quickly, violently, but the drive to do so simply wasn't there. I only had one purpose, one human who called me here.

"No, thank you," I said, forcing a smile. "I'm here to see my…cousin."

"Ah," she said. "Well, you need to sign in. Patient name, please?"

I walked over to the front desk, scanning the list of visitors' names. I saw her father's there, but even that could not deter me.

"Bella Swan," I said. She watched me as I wrote my name in swift, fluid strokes, my chest tightening with the memories of learning to read, to write, to say my own name.

"Well, Mr. Cullen, visiting hours are over in fifteen minutes, so don't dilly-dally."

I nodded, knowing this silly human would hardly remember to check up on me. And if she did, I would find a way to distract her. Humans were easy enough to deal with, when the situation required it.

I slipped through the halls, silent and unnoticed, as swarms of people passed me by. The scent of their blood twisted my stomach; their faces were invisible to me. It was as though there was one human, and then all the rest. Everything I thought I knew about who I was did not exist anymore.

Her room was at the far end of the hall, away from the others. I knocked once, twice, uncertain if the rules applied to me here. But her voice drifted through the disinfectant-saturated air, exactly as it had the last thirty-three nights.

"Come in," she murmured.

"Bella," I breathed, my body going rigid at the sight of so many tubes and wires and such a distinct odor of defilement flowing through her veins. But it wasn't the blood that horrified me the most; it was the sight of her lying there, on sheets as white as snow, too weak to even sit up.

"I thought you'd come," she said, and a soft, radiant smile graced her face. She reached out for me, her touch so cool and fragile I hardly recognized it.

"You're…cold," I said.

"So are you," she smirked.

"What happened?" I rasped, resisting the urge to rip those tubes from her veins.

"I fainted at school," she said. "And it turns out I'm 'profoundly anemic,' whatever that means. So they're working me up for that."

"Did they fix you?"

She laughed, a light, beautiful laughter that made me forget every evil I had ever committed. "They transfused me," she said. "So for now, I guess they did."

"Do they know…do they know what caused it?" I asked, wishing in some part of my being she knew who I was, what I'd done, and why I should suffer a thousand lifetimes for my sins. But a vampire could not simply refrain from human blood; we needed it the way humans need air, and without it, we would die.

And hers was the only blood I desired.

"No," she said, her eyes fixed on mine. I thought I saw something there, a flash of doubt, or intuition, or even understanding; but of course it was impossible, because to humans, vampires were nothing more than folklore and legend. Their misconceptions were in some ways my best protection.

"Bella—"

"My dad won't be back until the morning," she said, interrupting my apology, or confession, or something that would have changed everything. "Can we go somewhere?"

"Where?" I asked, because while I didn't want to put her in any danger, I wanted more than anything to get as far from this place as possible.

"Anywhere but here," she said. "Please, Edward."

I nodded, disconnecting the tubes and wires and monitors, while her eyes fluttered closed. I lifted her up, cradling her as I would the most fragile of creatures. She weighed nothing in my arms. Nothing at all.

She didn't notice the haste with which I left that place. Her eyes remained closed, her arms draped around my neck. Her blood, though tinged with drugs and someone else's cells, still called to me. But for just this once, I ignored it, and since the night was so cold, I brought her to the only home I'd ever known.

It sat deep in the forest, an aging farmstead on the outskirts of town. Unlike most vampires I knew, Carlisle had inhabited the same house for many years. He had, at times, even shared his home with other vampires, but his way of life so drastically conflicted with theirs that they inevitably moved on. Only Esme remained, and it was she who had given Carlisle's life purpose. It was unusual for vampires to forge such deep relationships with other vampires, but when it happened, the bond was unbreakable.

"Edward?" came the voice, as paternal as I remembered it. My parents were long dead, of course, but Carlisle was my maker. In that respect, our bond was stronger, our connection as close to father-and-son as vampires could be. Even so, I hadn't seen him in many years; Carlisle understood my solitary nature, and he had made no effort to find me.

"Yes," I said, as I emerged from the cover of the trees. The moon was bright tonight, its white light spilling its rays on Bella's bare skin.

"Please, come in," he said, glancing at the human in my arms as he opened the door wide. I nodded once and walked inside, overcome at once by the simplicity of his home. He lived like a human, with furniture and artwork and even a kitchen table. I questioned the way he chose to live, while at the same time envying it.

"I'm sorry to impose," I said, because I was, truly. It was not in my nature to ask things of others.

"No need to apologize," he said, leading me up the stairs toward the spare bedroom. I lay Bella down on the plush white bed, and she settled comfortably into a deeper sleep.

"You must think this strange," I muttered, afraid to meet his gaze. Carlisle lived a different lifestyle than most vampires; he drank from humans, but he had the restraint to leave them alive. Perhaps he found it ironic that I appeared to share the same skill, albeit for different reasons.

"No," he said. "I think it very natural."

I looked up. "Natural? How is any of this _natural_?"

"You're not the first vampire to become attached to a human," he said. "You're simply one of very few to spare that human's life."

"Barely," I said, my chest tightening as I took in Bella's sleeping form. If only I hadn't come north to this desolate place, if only she hadn't cut through the woods on a dark winter's night…

"Edward," he said, his voice low, his elbows on his knees. "What do you want with her?"

"I want to drink from her for all eternity," I said, my voice barely audible, even to a vampire.

"Is that all you want?" he asked.

"No," I said, my gaze fixed on the floor. "I want all of her, body and soul."

He inhaled, saying nothing for a long while. "It is easy to confuse our desires the deeper our attachments become."

"Is that why you turned Esme?"

"No," he said, his eyes flashing with the memory. "I turned her because she was already dying."

"As you did me."

"Yes," he sighed, and for the first time all night, he averted his gaze. "You were so young, Edward. So much life left to live…"

"This is hardly a life at all."

"It took me centuries to realize what my purpose was," he said, his voice steadier now. "As perhaps it has been for you."

"I can't continue to drink from her, Carlisle. I'll kill her."

"Then you must make a choice," he said.

"Is a vampire capable of loving a human?" I asked, expecting laughter, or a rebuke, or a harsh word about common sense.

Instead, I heard only silence.

"You were human once, Edward," he said, after a while. "You remember what love is."

My gaze found her once more, her breathing soft and shallow, her lips slightly parted. I ran my fingers through her hair, sweeping a few wayward strands from her face. When I looked up, Carlisle was gone, and we were alone.

I knelt beside her, my mind racing with a thousand possibilities. I would never understand how my existence had come to this; it had simply happened, and I had no choice but to accept it.

I didn't even notice at first her hand on my cheek, her skin so warm and smooth. It felt like a dream, being here with her, wishing I could undo all I had done but at the same time wanting it to last forever.

"Edward, my God," she said, pulling her hand away from me. "Your tears…"

I opened my eyes, my vision clearing as I took in the sight of this exquisite human, her fingers wet with blood. It was her blood, of course, flowing through my veins, sustaining me. I had seen other vampires cry tears of blood; I had simply assumed, like so many other things, that it would never happen to me.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, as if these were the only two words that mattered, the only two she might understand.

"I know," she murmured, her fingers lingering on the curve of my jaw. She tilted my chin down, her lips just inches from mine, and it wasn't a burn I felt but deep, unbearable longing.

"Bella…"

Her lips were softer, even, than her skin; the taste of her mouth even sweeter than her blood. I ignored the flames of thirst that licked at my throat, so immediate and all-consuming, and instead indulged in an intimacy I had only ever dreamed of.

She pulled me tighter, her hands wrapping around my neck, her body angled towards mine. I soon found myself on top of her, intoxicated by her, the heat of her body muddling my senses and sharpening the burn in my throat. She deepened the kiss, her hunger matching my own, until the restraint I had so carefully crafted over so many nights was nothing but a memory.

I could feel it now, the fire in my throat, spreading in a violent wave through my body. There were other desires, too, so foreign to me until now, and with each stroke of her hand on my skin, I could feel them intensifying.

"Bella," I rasped, pulling away from her in a fleeting moment of constraint. She looked up at me, her eyes smoldering with dark desire.

"I know what you are," she said, her breathing heavy, uneven. "I've known since the very first night."

I felt my breath catch, my body still. "But how...and why…you didn't have to invite me in. I could have killed you."

"But you didn't."

"I could kill you now," I reminded her, aching with need for her blood, her body. She arched into me, her boldness teasing me in dangerous ways.

"But you won't," she murmured, and her hand fell from my face, to my neck, down to my chest. She pulled my shirt over my head, a flash of shyness crossing her features.

"I'm very dangerous, Bella," I said, as her hand continued to travel south. "More dangerous than you can possibly imagine."

"Then take me," she said, her hand slipping inside my trousers. I groaned at her touch, her little fingers wrapping around my length. I was ready for her now; ready to take her, in spite of my every attempt to hold back.

I untied the hospital gown, let it fall from her body. Her breasts were bare for me, smooth and white, her nipples as pink as the blush on her cheeks. They hardened with my touch, her whimpers filling the empty room. I slipped the last remaining fabric from her hips, and it was the scent of her arousal that made the embers in my throat transform into an all-consuming fire.

I moved down her body, tasting her skin, deepening her pleasure. My name fell from her lips like a desperate caress, her breaths coming in quick, short gasps as I tasted the wetness between her legs. I nipped at the nerves there, her hips bucking as I teased and licked and bit, although never enough to draw blood.

No, that would come later.

"I'm going to…Edward…" she gasped, as her cries escalated.

She came seconds later, her body shuddering with release. I reveled in it, this utter vulnerability at my hands, the height of her pleasure. She opened her eyes as I hovered over her, a languid smile on her face.

I undressed with calm, calculated precision, while she watched with dark, discerning eyes. I allowed the fire to smolder and burn, to consume me in ways I had never imagined. Every breath I took, every movement I made contributed to this crescendo of desire that always culminated in the feast of human blood. Combined with the lust I felt for her body, I was as dangerous a predator as mankind could conceive.

I knelt over her, her arousal swirling in the air, her heart thundering with anticipation. She kissed me then, parting my lips with her tongue. I devoured the taste of her, so warm and wet, so unlike the cool, hard touch of a vampire. I reached down between her legs, placing myself at her entrance, testing the limits of my own control.

"I've never…" she began, as I pushed slowly into her.

I knew, of course. The scent of a human's blood conveyed so many things, and her innocence ran deep in her veins. I hesitated, but she arched further into me, and my instincts took over once more.

"Don't…stop…" she said, and so I filled her completely, my senses overcome by the scent, the touch, the taste of this divine human who had somehow altered the very nature of my being. There was little in this life that satiated a vampire more than human blood, but this was an entirely different kind of pleasure.

I could feel her muscles tightening, her release approaching. But my senses were obliterated, my desire for her body mingling with her blood, and as that delicious shudder began to course through her body and a tremendous pressure built up in mine, I swept her hair from her shoulder and buried my teeth in her neck.

"Edward," she gasped, as I tumbled over the edge and spilled into her in waves. I continued to drink from her, hot gushes of her blood filling my throat, my body overcome by a sudden surge of heat. And as always, it was her voice that brought me back, her gentle touch that suppressed a lifelong instinct to kill.

"Edward," she said again, and I sat up quickly, horrified by what I might have done. But a light smile colored her face, and judging by the blush on her cheeks and the ruddy color of her skin, I had taken less than I'd thought.

"I'm—"

"Don't be sorry," she said. "Not this time."

"Have I hurt you?"

"No," she whispered, and she pulled me back down again, her fingers in my hair.

"I'm a monster, Bella. One day, I'll kill you."

"Then turn me," she said. "Make me like you."

"No," I said, my eyes narrowing. "Never."

"Then what will you do?"

I brushed my hand over her arm, my gaze never leaving hers. I could see the crimson of my irises reflected in her eyes, could see what a monster I was and always would be.

"You're not a monster," she said, as if my thoughts were laid bare for her, the way hers had never been for me.

"I'm not human," I whispered, but she merely tugged on my hand, leading me to the grand piano in the corner of the room.

"You were once," she murmured, placing my hands on the keys. "Play for me."

I hadn't forgotten.

I played for her, for me. I played all night.

The hospital was quiet when we returned. I replaced the tubes in her arms, the sustenance of a human life I had almost taken away. She murmured my name as she drifted to sleep, her hand falling from mine as I slipped from her room and into the night, my tears staining the freshly-fallen snow.

Crimson on white.

I felt the sun rise.


End file.
